


Nibble

by AnnetheCatDetective



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Feeding, Food Kink, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-05-12 04:21:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19221481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnetheCatDetective/pseuds/AnnetheCatDetective
Summary: For a prompt for A/C and Crowley liking to watch Aziraphale eat.





	Nibble

    "Aren't you having anything?" Aziraphale asks, in all innocence. "I know you're not one for big meals, dear, but a little nibble?"

  
  
    "Coffee's fine, angel." Crowley shakes his head, sinking into the booth opposite. Crowley _likes_ coffee. And Crowley doesn't need to eat. He certainly doesn't need to eat _here_. 

  
  
    It's a cheap little place, but it's clean. Most of the food is uninspiring-- it's either watery or it's greasy, and there's one thing on the menu that manages to be both-- but the coconut cake is divine. Aziraphale finds it worth coming in for. So Crowley comes in.

  
  
    "Have a nibble of mine, then." Aziraphale says, in a tone which brooks no argument. 

  
  
    Crowley can't help a fond smile, at that. 

  
  
    "A very small one." He promises, watching the way Aziraphale's face lights up when he sees his meal coming. The way he claps his hands together softly. 

  
  
    He holds out one of his chips for Crowley to take, and Crowley instead leans forward to snag it from Aziraphale's fingertips with his tongue.

  
  
    "You _beast_ , and suppose someone sees you?" Aziraphale chides, but he hardly seems displeased with him. 

  
  
    "Mm, you're right, much better if someone sees _me_ feeding _you_." Crowley takes one of the chips to feed Aziraphale in turn. "No weird tongue stuff."

  
  
    Aziraphale blushes, looking uncertainly between Crowley and the chip for just a moment, and for just that moment, Crowley fears he's make a colossal miscalculation, but then, Aziraphale leans in and delicately nibbles at the proffered chip. His lashes flutter down against his rosy cheeks, he savors, he sighs...

  
  
    He's beautiful.

  
  
    "Perhaps..." He says, and his voice is throaty and soft. 'Ravish me', it begs, even if his words do not. "Perhaps I had best feed myself, my dear. Lest I be too tempted."

  
  
    "No such thing as too tempted in my book." Crowley says, though not with the easy confidence he'd like.

  
  
    "I'm not licking your fingers in public." Aziraphale's tone is faintly scandalized, but it's scandalized in that way of his, that really only encourages more.

  
  
    Crowley licks them himself, although he is not personally tempted by grease and salt. But on the off chance that the sight is a fraction as alluring to Aziraphale as it always is to him, he does it just the same.

  
  
    He watches Aziraphale demolish the rest of his chips, refusing another with a little shake of the head and a smile. He takes in every pleased hum, thrills to every moment Aziraphale pauses to lick his own fingers, to disappear them past plump, pink lips or to lave over them with the temptingest tongue this side of Crowley's own. 

  
  
    He accepts a little bite of a pork pie that, while the best thing on the menu other than cake, is not remotely tempting, because it stops Aziraphale fussing over him, but what he wants isn't a meal of his own, what he wants is just to _watch_.

  
  
    Aziraphale loves food so wholeheartedly, he loves sweets, he loves savories. He loves the taste, the aroma, the look, the mouthfeel of food. He loves, he loves, he _loves_ , and Crowley loves to watch him. And to listen to him, oh, he is a vocal appreciator of culinary delights. And even middling fare in a lousy sort of a place, he finds delight in it all. Watching him eat the chips and the pie is good, yes... but watching him eat his cake is the real piece de resistance.

  
  
    Aziraphale is positively aglow when the cake arrives. Aziraphale thrills to it. He bounces in his seat a little, wriggles with glee, makes the most adorable face as it's set before him.

  
  
    Coconut cake. 

  
  
    "White and light and fluffy as an angel's wings." Crowley grins wryly.

  
  
    "Would you like a nibble?"

  
  
    "Of an angel's wing?"

  
  
    " _Crowley_!" He gasps, one hand fluttering to his heart-- though he can't hide his smile.

  
  
    "Because I'd really like that. If you know a willing angel." Crowley bobs his eyebrows. 

  
  
    "Really, now, what's got into you, I don't wonder..." Aziraphale squirms and flushes the most enticing pink. "Mouthful of feathers you'd wind up with, not half as nice as coconut on the tongue."

  
  
    "Oh, I don't know. I've seen some tasty-looking angels." He takes a slow sip of his coffee. Looks Aziraphale over just as slow. Even from behind his dark glasses, it's clear.

  
  
    "Oh?" He swallows, fork poised over his cake. "Some?"

  
  
    "One. Only one I'd like to take a nibble out of." Crowley slides his foot over to nudge Aziraphale's, beneath the table. "Do you think he'll let me?"

  
  
    "He might." Aziraphale glances away, smiling. He takes a nice big bite, moans over it, and that moan goes straight to Crowley's libido like lightning. "Oh, Crowley, have a taste. Of the _cake_."

  
  
    "A very little one-- I won't enjoy it like you do, don't waste it on me."

  
  
    "It's a nice big slice, it's not a waste to share a bite." He tuts, but he doesn't overdo it. He offers a modestly sized bite, smiling as Crowley licks the fork clean. "Don't you like it?"

  
  
    "It's good. But I like watching you more."

  
  
    "Oh." He blushes even brighter, and smiles down at the rest of his cake. Plenty left to enjoy... His eyes flicker back up to meet Crowley's. "As long as you're enjoying yourself, then. Oh-- and Crowley?"

  
  
"Mm?"

  
  
"Perhaps..." He toys with his fork, glances away, back, away again. "If you were to take me home... there might be something I could find, in my back room, that you might rather nibble on?"

  
  
"Oh, angel, there just might be." Crowley groans, and watches as the fork pierces the soft cake, to bring another generous mouthful to those luscious lips...


End file.
